


Kind Lies & Harsh Truths

by Littlewinns



Series: Kind Lies & Harsh Truths [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: But This One Is Mine, Canon up to end of Season 2, Contains spoilers for Star Wars VIII: The Last Jedi, F/M, May scrape the definition of Mature by the end, Nothing from Season 3 except Mon-El's return, There Are Many Like It, this is my otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlewinns/pseuds/Littlewinns
Summary: Kara asked for Lena's help planning for Winn's birthday, and she's gone way overboard with it.Now she's trapped at this huge party; with nothing but a martini, her memories, and her own personal demon for company.But sometimes, being lonely isn't the same thing as being alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is, by far, the most indulgent thing I've ever written; and I didn't mean for it to be this long, but it just grew and grew.
> 
> As always with my work, comments are welcome.

"What else was he supposed to do? She isn't taking the danger seriously, she won't tell him her plan - or if she even _has_ one - he's got no choice _but_ to take matters into her own hands-"

Lena held herself silently at the edge of the conversation, not wanting to get involved. She recognised Mon-El's expression very well, from her mother's dinner table. It was the quiet smirk of a man who'd found a flaw, buried in the speaker's argument; but wasn't in a position to point it out. She'd seen it on Lex, many times.

Except for the eyes, though. Lex could never hide the rage in his eyes, the anger that this uninformed person had been given permission to speak. Mon-El's eyes, as he took in Kara's well-intentioned defence of that idiot fly-boy, held none of that. Instead, he seemed to find the whole thing... ironic.

She slinked away, thankfully un-noticed. She needed to be away from people right now, and she'd prefer not to have to explain why.

But the party was huge, and people were everywhere. Movie stars, TV stars, musicians, press: a whole cavalcade of worthless idiots, all possessed of the same delusion that they were of any real value to the world.

She cursed herself for the spiteful thought. The analytical part of her brain - the part she thought of as being uniquely _her_ \- knew that it was uncalled for. But the cynical, condescending fury that had come to define the Luthors was in there too, always smouldering in the recesses of her mind; and at times like this, it became an inferno.

But she needed them to _go away_.

Luckily, being able to navigate high-profile soirées was an under-appreciated Luthor skill, and she soon found an empty couch and a table, out of the way; and sat alone, with nothing but her thoughts, and a warm martini.

It was giving her a headache. The Luthor within had watched that bartender like a hawk, watching her get everything just _slightly_ wrong, but hadn't said a word. It was more satisfying to rage at incompetence. Or, at least, that's what the Luthor within believed. Lena, on the other hand, knew full well that it didn't matter; martinis, as much as she liked them, had always given her a headache. 

All, of course, except the first one; and she was never going to have one exactly like that ever again.

She'd been almost fourteen, at another party, hosted by her mother. It was not exactly a hootenanny. Lena hadn't wanted to be there, but Lillian - ever the contolling matriarch - expected her to be seen there, but not in any way noticed. Lex - who was also making an appearance out of obligation - had found Lena loitering with boredom, as only a thirteen-year-old can; and, with a mischevious grin, suggested she might join him in his private study.

Lex had re-purposed an empty drawing room, their father's study having been Lillian's domain in the two years since his death. Lex offered Lena a stool at the tiny bar he'd had installed, and then - being pathologically irresponsible, which is not always the same as reckless - he asked her what she would like to drink.

She ordered immediately, quickly followed by the addendum, "Shaken, not stirred," which was met with an exhausted sigh.

"You do _not_ shake a martini," Lex instructed, coldly; slamming the door of the ice-box as he put two frozen glasses down on the bar.

"Understood," she confirmed, embarrassed. Lex wasn't often curt with her; but when he was, it made her want to screw herself up into a tiny ball.

She watched intently as he pulled a bottle of Noilly Prat from the cabinet. It was always worth watching Lex when he was giving something his full attention. He dribbled his fingers with the vermouth, then rubbed the liquid around the inside of the glass, in a spiral. Then, he filled a mixing glass with large ice cubes and six ounces of Tanqueray, squeezed a long spoon in between the ice and the inner wall of the glass, and stirred; rotating the column of ice and gin with deliberate speed.

"The trick is not to let the ice melt," he said, never taking his eyes off the task at hand, "It'll make it weaker."

For two minutes he stirred, the room silent except for the spinning liquid; before he strained into the prepared glasses, giving each a swirl before sitting a glass in front of her, and proffering his own for a toast.

Nervously, and with more than a little glee, Lena gripped the glass in front of her by the stem, and tapped it against Lex's.

"Mother's going to be _sooooo_ mad about this," Lena said.

"You can't live in fear, Lena. You're a Luthor. You don't need to care about what she thinks," he replied, taking a confident swig.

Hesitantly, Lena brought the glass up to her lips-

"No teeny sips, now," Lex interrupted, "That's a big girl's drink. Do me proud."

Rolling her eyes, she took a bigger gulp than she would have. It was fine, until she swallowed, when she first experienced that soft, smooth alcohol burn she would come to love. She didn't love it much now, though; and she held back a cough, making Lex chuckle.

"How is it?" he asked.

"It's good," she replied, despite having no real frame of reference, as the cold gin warmed her from the inside.

"Well, don't let it get warm. It's supposed to be finished in three sips," he said, quite absently. Lena took it as a challenge, and took her second two sips in quick succession; before delicately placing the glass back on the bar, and gasping from the alcohol.

Lex looked at her with brotherly pride, and she felt warmer still, and not from the drink. "How do you feel?" he asked, with a sly grin. She rested her weight on the bar; a pleasing, but unfamiliar fog dulling her senses.

"Floaty," she answered.

Lex raised an eyebrow - or would have done, had alopecia not taken them from him a few years before, along with the rest of his hair - and asked, "You want another?"

She let a giggle escape, then nodded enthusiastically. Lex knocked back his own drink, and started work on the next round.

That was the last of Lena's recollection.

It was not, however, the last of Lillian's recollection. Lillian's recollection of that evening's events had included - among other things - a broadsword from one of the displays in the dining room, the Dean of Medicine from Metropolis Memorial, and a significant bill for steam-cleaning the carpet in the main hallway. And, as Lena had predicted, she was SOOOO mad.

But Lena hadn't taken the full force of it. Lillian hadn't been _forgiving_ about it, certainly, but no; in a rare turn of events, Lillian had been angry with _Lex_ , for giving a thirteen-year-old six ounces of mostly-straight gin in the first place. She'd been _furious_ with him. 

Angrier, even, than she would be not much more than six months later; after the Daily Planet revealed Lex had tried to sink California into the sea with a stolen ICBM.

The memory alive in her mind, Lena hammered home the last of her sub-par cocktail. Was it really only six months? Had it really taken so little time for Lex to transform from the fun brother she knew and loved, into... that?

The Luthor within fumed. This was just supposed to be an idiot space movie. It was just supposed to be a nice surprise. How could it have done this to her?

Suddenly, she heard a familiar male voice, and it broke her out of her enraged trance.

"May I sit?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Can I ask a favour?"

Lena suppressed her eye-roll, looking over the sushi platter at Kara's awkward expression.

"I'm pretty sure it's your turn, Kara," Lena replied, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you see, that's just it; it's not for me, exactly. It's for Winn," Kara said, shoving nigiri into her mouth with her fingers, "You remember my friend Winn?"

Lena's lips pulled themselves into the faintest of smiles at the memory of an otherwise unassuming young man berating Lillian _to her FACE_.

"I believe I recall."

"Well, he's got a birthday coming up next month - thirty, so it's a big deal, and I wanna make a big deal out of it; and there's a new Star Wars coming out about the same time, and, you know he really likes Star Wars, so I was thinking-" Kara yammered, pausing briefly to grab another prawn nigiri, the additional rice muffling her words even more, "-maybe we could arrange, like, a private screening or something, and maybe that's something you would be able to help me out with?"

Lena carefully maintained her expression, as she picked up a California roll with her chopsticks, carefully dipping it into the wasabi-and-soy sauce, and held it.

"Seems pretty special. Must be a really good friend," Lena said, carefully. She wasn't exactly clear _how_ Supergirl's secret-agent tech support had become friends with Kara Danvers, but it didn't really surprise her. Kara had a knack for picking up lost souls.

"He's the best," Kara said, proudly.

"Perhaps... more than friends?" Lena tested, popping the sushi into her mouth at the end to force Kara into giving a longer answer. Lena felt Kara could do with a new fling anyway, now that Mon-El was... gone.

Kara pulled back into her flustered face. "What? No- nooooo- no, no, no, nothing like - ha - nothing like that. We're just friends."

So... something _had_ happened there, once; but Kara wasn't touching it. Interesting. "Stand down, Kara; I was just asking."

Kara sighed. "He just... he comes through, you know. And I wanna do the same for him."

Lena nodded. The first time she'd met Winn, he was bailing her out of a jam. And the second time. It didn't surprise her that it was a habit for him.

"Leave it with me. I'll take care of it," Lena said, thoughtfully.

"You'll do it? Are you sure?" Kara asked, excitedly.

"Well, I was always going to do it, Kara. Don't worry. I have just the thing in mind."

It was hard not to like Winn. He was really quite brilliant, in his own way; and they'd fallen into an easy rapport when they'd worked together. His methods were... odd. To Lena, it often felt like watching Buster Keaton, sitting on the front of that train, desperately hurling railway sleepers at the tracks ahead. Her strategist mind wasn't always geared toward that kind of in-the-moment problem-solving.

But Winn did it well, and could do it _fast_ , and with bleeding-edge technologies no-one had ever even seen before. As skills went, it was incredibly useful; and Lena respected that.

And he'd never been apprehensive with her, ever. If he feared the Luthor within, he did a great job of hiding it. And he didn't seem like he was that good of a liar.

Besides... she kind of owed him. And she definitely owed Kara. It probably wouldn't be out of line to go above and beyond here.

So, about a month later...

"This is from me," Kara said, passing Winn the envelope. It was a very small party, just the seven of them - unassuming, much like its guest of honour - Lena felt a little out of place even being there. But her stomach was in knots. She'd stuffed Winn's gift into the envelope just fifteen minutes earlier, not even Kara had seen what it really was.

She watched him intently, the butterflies flapping around inside her. He was going to lose it when he saw what she - _they_ \- had gotten for him.

"Hmm... Feels heavy, Danvers," Winn said, deftly slipping a finger underneath the opening. That was the other thing about Winn: his hands. His arms would wave around, operating almost independently of his body, like Kermit the Frog in the midst of a crisis. But his hands were nimble and precise, and had produced soldering work that could have been indistinguishable from that of a machine. He could have been a surgeon with those hands. 

The dichotomy was fascinating.

He pulled the card from the envelope, and opened it. Lena had been hoping for a smile, but no; his face fell, first in confusion, then in horror. She stood, mortified, looking over to Kara for some reassurance: What was going on? Did he not like it? Had she messed up?

"Come on, man; what is it?" James asked.

Kara caught Lena's pleading eyes, and jumped in. "Lena helped me arrange it," she said, in a voice Lena really hoped was intended to minimise the damage, as she watched Winn's eyes fill with tears. More likely, it was just going to spread the blame around.

"You don't actually know what's in this, do you, Kara?" Winn asked, not taking his eyes off of the inside of the card.

"You know, Winn, it's okay-" Alex tried to intervene, but Kara interrupted her.

"Well... no, there wasn't time; but I'm sure Lena didn't mean to-" she began in earnest, but stopped as Winn looked up from the card at last, to meet Lena's gaze head on.

"I'm going to hug you now. Is that okay?" he declared, rising off the couch before she could answer.

"Uhh... okay," Lena responded, as her approached her, decisively; and, mere moments after the answer left her lips, his arms had wrapped themselves around her in a comfortable embrace.

His body shook softly with quiet sobs, and it didn't seem to Lena like he was planning on letting go any time soon. She tentatively returned his embrace, patting him on the back in an attempt to provide comfort or consolation, one of the two. She wouldn't have described the situation as being within her comfort zone, but it did feel surprisingly natural.

"So..." she dared, "...Did you like it?"

He rewarded her with faint nods. Kara's eyes lit up when she saw, and gave Lena two big thumbs up in celebration.

"Whatever you get him must have been pretty great," she heard Mon-El say from the kitchenette, where he'd been mixing drinks. Kara had been sketchy on the details of when he'd returned, or how; but he'd seemed like he'd mellowed since she'd seen him last, and he and Kara appeared to be in a friendly place.

Besides, she had to admit: the beard was working for him.

Winn's arm reached out to Kara, not breaking the hug, and Kara took the card from him, examining its contents.

"Tickets for Star Wars: The Last Jedi..." she told everyone, before her eyes bulged out of the sockets as she read the detail, "...tickets to the GALA PREMIERE...in METROPOLIS!"

Winn gently released Lena at last, and she came face to face with the BIGGEST smile she had ever seen on another human being. It beamed from his eyes, and was clearly infectious; she couldn't help but smile back. She'd NAILED it. His mouthed the words, "Thank you," to her, before trying to hide behind a schoolboy's blush.

"Okay, all we got you were Steam vouchers," Maggie said, with a particular blend of cynicism and embarrassment.

"Yeah, _Kara_ ," Alex added on, playfully needling at her sister. "You had to show us all up, didn't ya? You could have at least waited until last before making us look bad."

"There's tickets for all six of you," Lena explained, as Kara stared back at her sister in silent exasperation, "And it's all expenses paid, of course."

"Okay, I don't know what's happening," Mon-El said, handing out champagne flutes; first to Winn, then to Lena, "But it sounds pretty good."

"Winn's going to meet the Star Wars people," Kara answered, as he handed her a glass, "We all are."

"Yeah, it's pretty much Winn Christmas," James said.

"Winn ChrisMUKKAH," Winn corrected.

"AND," James carried on, acknowledging his friend, "I get a few days to show you guys around some of my old haunts."

"Wait," Winn interrupted, "Tickets for each of us? You're not coming?"

Lena recoiled at the question. "Oh... it's not my place. I wouldn't want to intrude-" she began, before Winn cut her off.

"Not your place? Uh... no," he said, with unprecedented confidence. His eyes still red from half-cried tears, he mellowed his smile into a serene grin; and continued, firmly, "No. That's not how that works anymore."

So, Lena got herself an extra ticket, booked the three-bedroom penthouse suite at the Metropolis Hyatt - she would have leaned toward getting separate rooms, but Kara thought it would be neat if they all shared a suite, and Winn agreed - and, a few weeks later, they were on her private jet, headed to Metropolis.

James had gone on ahead; he was making a week of it, staying in Lois Lane & Clark Kent's guest room. Alex spent the flight calming Maggie down; the combination of air travel and the imminent opportunity to meet Laura Dern were not doing her nerves any good. Kara and Mon-El spent much of their time not arguing - _vehemently_ not arguing - which largely consisted of Kara loudly trying to convince Mon-El of something he already agreed with; never without a smile on their faces, either one of them.

And Winn... when he wasn't gripping onto his seat for dear life, Winn seemed to be in awe of the whole experience.

"You've never been on an airplane before, have you?" Lena asked him in a quiet moment.

"Uh...no. Only spaceships," he replied, with peculiar embarrassment; as though that answer didn't raise further questions.

James met them at the hotel, to drop off his suit bag; it was only a quick walk to the theatre from there, so he was getting changed there, then picking up his stuff tomorrow. 

After check-in, the Daily Planet's top reporters joined them for a decent, if socially uncomfortable, early dinner. As the group initially ran out of small talk, Lena could feel Lois Lane trying to size her up. But Winn, along with Clark Kent - surprisingly, two peas in a pod - kept the peace between the two of them: Mr. Kent, with his borderline infamous Kansas politeness; Winn with a much less subtle method of changing the subject at breakneck speed. 

To her credit, Ms. Lane could tell exactly what was going on. At one point, while Winn was telling the Charity Gala story, waxing lyrical about the black body field generator, Lena spied Lois listening with a knowing smile, before glancing over at the man sat next to her, who caught it, and gently laid his hand upon hers in acknowledgement.

She was much easier to get along with after that.

After dinner, they parted ways with Clark and Lois, and headed back to the suite to change into their finery.

She was waiting on the couch in the shared lounge when Winn came out of the room he shared with Mon-El, and headed over to the mirror to do his neck-tie. "That's a striking dress," he said as he strolled past, "New, or just something you had lying around?"

"What? This old thing?" Lena said, playfully; picking errant fluff out from underneath the tiny black sequins of her otherwise crimson dress. He grinned to acknowledge the joke; then cleared his throat, blushing, and turned to face the mirror.

"I like the swirly brooch," he said, referring to the black clasp holding up the gown's single, plunging shoulder; as though Lena hadn't just spotted him take a gentlemen's nanosecond to admire the rest of her neckline. "It goes with the whole beehive thing you got going on up top," he continued, making a circling motion over his own head with his finger by way of description.

"Thank you," she said, letting him off the hook. She didn't mind him sneaking a peek. Compared to most men, he'd been incredibly discreet. "And what about you? You certainly didn't find that at the back of your closet."

Winn had gone all out. His suit, a three-piece in midnight-blue, was tailored perfectly. It must have cost him a fortune. Lena had spent her entire life around millionaires, and he was making them look shabby.

"Oh, thanks," he said, looking down at his own outfit, "I got lucky. Picked up the end of a roll of Italian silk for a steal. Three weeks later, a lot of measuring..."

He turned to display himself in front of her. Lena couldn't help but be impressed.

"You... _made_ your suit?" she asked, smiling. He was full of surprises.

"I did. All hand-stitched," he replied, with pride that bordered upon bragging. "Kara's dress, too."

Lena followed the direction of his nod, over to the door of the room she and Kara were sharing; and saw Kara in a 1950s-style cocktail dress, the fabric printed with spiralling galaxies and nebulae. Going by the standard of the room, she was a tad underdressed; but it was, nonetheless, very Kara.

"Very nice," Lena said, as she turned back to see him finish off his tie. Well, almost. 

"Come here," she instructed, and Winn did as he was told. She took the knot and the short end of the tie in her hands, asking, "Made anything else I would have seen?" as she manoeuvered the length of silk into position, and smoothed it out underneath his matching waistcoat.

He tried to avoid her gaze as he answered, even though she was mere inches away; the pride in his eyes turning to a peculiar shyness.

"You'd be surprised," he whispered.

They headed out to the theatre, entering through the side entrance - the one for people avoiding the red carpet - although Lena spotted Winn's gaze darting around, presumably for the celebrities that were all outside; although, occasionally, she found him searching around their feet as well, as though he thought one of them might be crawling around on the floor. 

Kara told her that he was looking for a baby. Lena had to assume she'd misheard her.

Once they were in their seats, the show began: a brief introduction, a few speeches, a moment of silence for a cast member that had passed away. And then, the movie started.

The Luthor Mansion had never been a Star Wars household. Science fiction, certainly: Shelly, Clarke, Herbert, Heinlein - plus that dog-eared, much-footnoted paperback copy of _Atlas Shrugged_ Lex loaned her when she was twelve, with the explanation of, "You MUST read this" - but Star Wars, no. She knew what it was, of course - everybody did - but Lex considered the whole thing to be an idiot's fairy-tale, Lillian had even less regard for it, and her father's idea of family viewing ran more toward Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn that toward robots and laser swords.

All these years later, she'd never felt the need to waste time catching up; but - as she watched the plucky heroine argue with her cranky old hermit hero - she found herself getting into it. And Winn was having a great time too; every time she looked over at him, he was enraptured.

And then... something happened.

Rey and Ben had joined forces to defeat Snoke and his guards. Ben Solo had turned against his former master, and now they were ready to take on the whole First Order together.

Lena was elated. Rey had done it. She'd brought Ben over to the Light. And then... 

Lena Luthor was hit with the strongest memory.

Suddenly, there were too many people. She was surrounded, she had to get out. But she froze. She couldn't move without disturbing anyone, and that would only draw attention to herself. People would ask what was wrong. If she was okay.

And she couldn't answer them.

So, she sat there; her mind focused solely on her memories, as the rest of the story played out in front of her eyes.

She wouldn't cry. Not here. The Luthor within wouldn't permit it.

The movie finished, and applause was given; and she dutifully made her way to the after-party, secretly seething at everyone in her path. And, of course, once they were there, everyone started _enjoying_ themselves, the bastards.

James, no stranger to these events, ended up deep in conversation with a very tall blonde in very tall shoes, and seem quite enthralled. Maggie stood nervously near the bar - Alex offering her courage, both Dutch and regular - as she decided whether or not to approach one of her teen heroes. Kara seemed intent on defending Poe Dameron to Mon-El, even though Mon-El didn't seem to be disagreeing with her; but he enjoyed how passionate she was about it, all the same.

And Lena... Lena was alone, hating everyone, wishing she could be anywhere - _anywhere_ \- except trapped in this room.

"May I sit?" Winn asked, and it broke her out of her trance.


	3. Chapter 3

"May I sit?"

Lena's brain scrambled at Winn's question, and she quickly put on the same face she'd used throughout her late teens; when all anyone wanted to talk to her about was Lex, if they spoke to her at all.

"Of course!" she said, smiling brightly, and shifting over to make a space. "Are you having fun?"

"I am!" Winn told her, his smile halfway bewteen smirk and beam, and sat a very precise, comfortable distance from her. He put his cocktail down on the table - Lena suspected it was a Tom Collins - and he announced, "John Boyega asked me where I got my suit!"

For the smallest moment, her happy façade was genuine. Even the Luthor within couldn't deny Winn this moment in the sun. He'd earned it.

The good cheer didn't last, but the smile remained on her face regardless.

"What did you tell him?" she asked.

"Small fashion house, very select clientèle," he replied, with a dopey grin.

"Playing it cool, I see. Did you give him your card? You could do very well for yourself," she told him, as the Luthor within raged at him for not taking the opportunity.

"Oh, God, no," he said, "I do NOT have time for that. I'm pretty much working twenty-four-seven already." He sucked at his drink through the stupid tiny little straws, and sat it back down. "How about you? You like the movie?"

"It was fun," she said, nodding. Obfuscation, that was the key. Keep things as vague as possible. Keep the Luthor within under control.

"Not your thing?" he asked, apologetically.

"Not before tonight," she said, cursing herself for letting even that much slip; adding, "But I'm curious to see more," as a means to cover her indescretion. She wasn't curious. She would never BE curious. The whole thing could catch on fire for all she cared.

"Well, I can help you with that," he chuckled. "I will warn you, Jedi is my favourite - Return of the Jedi, I mean," he continued, and Lena forced herself to take an interest, "It's not even remotely the best one, but it's got all my favourite stuff in it, you know? It's got Luke as this weird, zen, Jedi monk; Admiral Ackbar - that's the goldfish-type alien? White costume? Uh, it's got the redemption of Darth Vader-

"Darth Vader gets redeemed? Isn't he the bad guy?" she asked, absently; realising the moment the question was out of her mouth that it was the Luthor within that asked it.

"Yeah, but before he dies, he performs this one last act of heroism that shows that there's still goodness in him, in spite of everything that he's done."

"Oh," she said, as took this information on board. 

Darth Vader Is Actually Good. What a load of crap.

"I'm sorry," he said, solemnly; and Lena snapped back into her fake self.

"There's no need to apologise, Winn. You should be passionate about what you love."

"No, I mean..." he said, and he paused, deep in thought; as though in consideration of his next move, or of jumping off of a very high building.

And then he jumped.

"I'm sorry she couldn't save him."

Lena's lightning-green eyes struck Winn's earthen-brown with a crack, and the rain of tears she and the Luthor within had been holding back could be held back no longer.

_How... HOW DARE YOU..._

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, her mind desperately trying to regain control.

"It's okay. I understand," he said, and he looked as if he really did.

But it was a lie. It had to be a lie. No one else could understand, not this. It was impossible. She was all alone in this, just her and the rage, and she knew it.

"You think I'm upset about the villain in a stupid movie?" the Luthor within spat at him, revealing more than Lena intended to.

"I think you needed to believe he wasn't a villain. I think you needed to believe there was still good in him," Winn replied, calmly; dodging the outburst as though it was nothing. "And it's not stupid if this is how it makes you feel."

She fought the urge to break her martini glass off at the stem to stab him with it. This wasn't how this was supposed to work. People were afraid of her when the monster was under control; where the hell did he get the nerve to defy her after it was off the leash?

But Lena knew she couldn't sustain her anger toward him. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. But her other options were diminishing by the second.

"It's okay. I'm not going to judge you," he said, his face a monument to patience. 

"Kylo Ren didn't deserve saving," she said, finally; the Luthor within hating her for attaching meaning to this idiocy.

"Probably not," Winn replied, "But that isn't the same as not wanting Ben to be saved."

She thought about the memory that was consuming her. Every day since, she had pushed it down and ignored it; just like she, the Luthor within, _everyone_ had wanted her to. But it was right there, now. And she knew what it meant. And she couldn't deny it anymore.

"A good person wouldn't want that."

Winn shifted a little, then laid his hand down upon hers; his fingers enveloping her knuckles, which unknowningly held the couch cushions in a death grip. She instinctively shivered at the unexpected contact; and, as she looked down, became acutely aware of the tip of his little finger, where it glided ever-so-slightly against her bare knee.

"My dad," he began, pausing to get the words straight in his mind, "He was a monster. _Is_ a monster. He murdered six people, over-" and at this point he laughed, as though he'd only just made the connection, "-over an _intellectual property dispute_. Can you believe that? And I don't even know if it was real, or some sick delusion."

Lena actually couldn't believe it - or more accurately, couldn't believe this was the first she'd heard about it - but she understood. Winn was making this profound personal disclosure for a reason, to show they had common ground, before moving toward a broader point. 

The Luthor within, however, cursed him profusely. How DARE he try to make this about him?

"There is not a single part of that man that can be saved," Winn carried on, oblivious to her inner struggle, "And even if he could? I mean, if he _really_ could? I couldn't tell you if I wanted him to be. But-"

Winn stumbled over the next words, his path ahead less clear, "-I cry... _every single time_ I watch the man that was Anakin Skywalker choose to save his son. _Every_ time. There's a part of me that wants that, _needs_ that. To believe that the Dad I remember still exists, somewhere; even if he never will, even if he never did. I need to believe that someone would be able to save him."

Winn's shy smile made an attempt to hide what his red, wet eyes wouldn't, and added in a quiet voice, "That someone will be able to save me."

For a moment, the Luthor within forgot about Winn. It forgot about the party. It forgot about the movie, and Lex, and even Lillian; and instead, focused every single drop of its ire on whatever worthless fiend had managed to fill Winn's head with this obscene, _disgusting_ lie. 

What could Winn ever need to be saved from? What had this bright, kind, overwhelmingly helpful boy ever done to make him believe that the monster within could consume him, as it had Lex, or as it would-

She stopped the thought right there, leaving it incomplete. There would be no coming back from there if she hadn't.

"I mean, that's what stories are for, right?" he continued, with false joviality, at his original volume, "If they couldn't make us feel like this, we wouldn't need them. It's never just ' _This is Good, This is Bad. This is Simple._ ' We use stories to process the things we need to deal with, or escape the things we can't, or..."

He trailed off with a heavy sigh. "But boys get kind lies, and girls get harsh truths. For whetever reason, you needed a kind lie tonight, and you didn't get one. Just your own memories, shown back to you with different lighting. And it doesn't make you a bad person for wanting it to go a different way this time."

"I don't know that saying," Lena said, pretending to ignore every other part of his little speech, "Kind lies and harsh truths?"

"May not be a saying, maybe just something my mom used to say. I think it's why she left," he said, as though this were just a boring detail. "After Dad was arrested, she would have had to give me one or the other, and I don't think she could face either one. Or, maybe not? Maybe she was choosing harsh truth, and this was her way of doing it, I don't know."

He shook his head, and punctuated his words; forcing himself back on track. "What I'm trying to tell you is... I get it. You miss him. But I've searched enough graduation crowds for faces I know aren't there to know you're _allowed_ to miss him-"

"I MISS HIM? Are you STUPID?"

The interruption had come from the Luthor within. It had had ENOUGH. How could one person be so insightful, and yet so _useless_?

"No-one wants to hear that, Winn. _No-one_. Everybody hates him _so much_ , and all they've ever wanted to hear from me is how I hate him too. And I do! I'm _so_ mad at him. I want to-" she held her arms up, gripping the air ahead of her, throttling it -"shake him until his idiot head falls off. Except I can't, because the thing they put in that cell isn't even him anymore."

Winn didn't even flinch, just nodded in agreement. There wasn't anything the Luthor within was telling him that he didn't already know. Lena took the opportunity to wrestle the vicious inner-voice under control before she carried on.

"But... if I could have one more birthday? A Christmas? A-"

Her eyes fell on the empty martini glass in front of her.

"What do you call that, Winn? What kind of person wants to get together with the worst person alive, and catch up over drinks?"

Winn gave his answer unfazed, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"A loving sister."

The Luthor within had been a companion of Lena's for a long time. Sometimes it was quiet, and a lot of times she could ignore it, but it was always _there_ ; ready and waiting for when she needed it.

But not now.

The moment Winn spoke, it was GONE. Vanished. Disappeared without trace. In its absence, Lena sat, adrift; alone in her mind with nothing but her own thoughts.

She didn't like it at all.

Winn stood up, decisively. "Come on. Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Lena asked, coldly.

"I'm taking you back to the hotel."

"I'll be fine here," she lied.

"You're not exactly having a great time."

"But you are," she argued, "You'd have to leave the party."

"They'll let me back in," he dismissed.

"Winn, this is your birthday gift. The one _I_ got for you. I'm not going to let you waste your time looking after me-" she began, the whole time avoiding his compassionate, patient gaze.

"That's not how that works anymore," he repeated, in the exact same confident tone as weeks before.

"How _does_ it work? You'll just drop everything to deal with my pathetic problems?"

She looked up at him. The look in his eyes told her all she need to know.

"They aren't pathetic, but yeah. That's precisely it," Winn said, his voice conveying less patience that his eyes had, "You are my family; I love you; you have a problem; we need to deal with it."

He looked down at his feet, embarrassed. "And the only way I know how to do that is by doing what needs doing."

He held his hand to her, silently advising her to take it.

"So let's go."

Lena considered Winn's upturned palm. She considered the words of the absent Mrs. Schott, and how wrong they were. Sometimes, girls _did_ get kind lies.

Right now, it was Winn's lie. If he left the party now, he was never going to be let back in. And she knew he knew it.

Lena reached out her hand, placed it in Winn's, and let him help pull her off of the couch.

As he led her to the exit, the Luthor within made an unwelcome return to her mind. 

_He's taking you back to the hotel_ , it explained.

_He knows he can't come back_ , it argued.

_He has PLANS for you._

To the surprise of the rest of her mind, that was fine. Lena didn't feel that him... _accompanying_ her, alone, back at their very expensive, glamorous, _romantic_ hotel room, was going to be the problem.

The problem, unexpectedly... was that she wanted him to.


	4. Chapter 4

As they strolled back, taking time to carefully side-step the varied sidewalk debris in her bare feet, Lena's mind turned over with all the disparate elements of the evening: Kylo. Lex. Mr. & Mrs. Schott...

...And Winn.

Winn, in his magnificent homemade suit, chivalrously carrying her enormously expensive, uncomfortable shoes. Winn, who had given up the birthday party of a lifetime to take care of her. Winn, who was taking her back to their hotel room.

Winn, about whom she was having... Thoughts.

Lena herself wasn't remotely ready to deal with the Thoughts, but they kept the Luthor within distracted for the time being; more than anything else, it found them funny. With her lesser half busy with other things, Lena spoke.

More accurately, words fell out her. Vague ideas and half-formed hypotheses about who she was and who she wanted to be tumbled into existence; and as they fell, she could see Winn listening intently, picking each one up and considering it before fitting them together like puzzle pieces in his own mind.

When she fell into silence - and it became clear that she had nothing else to say for the moment - Winn would offer his own thoughts in return, and ask her questions. It was completely unlike any time she had asked Kara for advice. Kara's advice - as well intentioned as it always was - often had something of a one-size-fits-all quality:

You Are A Good Person. I Believe In You. You Will Get Through This.

It was often nice to hear - and certainly a good counter-balance for the Luthor within - but not always especially helpful. It tended to gloss over certain details; details that Kara had either seemingly misunderstood or deliberately ignored, and that Lena had no capacity to explain.

Winn, however, eschewed the endless optimism of Kara Danvers, and focused on the practical. Who did Lena want to be? What would that person do? What did Lena think being that person looked like to other people?

Actionable tasks. Measureable goals. Where Kara would have insisted that Lena's problem wasn't really _her_ problem; Winn asked her what she planned on doing about it instead.

As she considered his questions, and gave him answers, the ideas he was trying to get across solidfied in her brain. The Luthor within considered it laughable; but putting what she wanted for herself into words, defining it in unambiguous terms, gave her unexpected clarity.

But it didn't make her feel better. Setting KPIs on Being A Good Person made her feel more like Lillian's clone than she ever had before. It should have made her feel grounded; but instead, it felt like she was floating away.

"Isn't this all somewhat... clinical?" Lena asked him, as they sauntered through the lobby.

"Sure, if it's just a to-do list," he said, "I think you have to be willing to give over a part yourself, sometimes. Let yourself be vulnerable. If everything's within your control, it's just... public relations, I think? And that just makes people root for you to fail."

As they got on the elevator, the Luthor within pointed out to her the key phrases, _Be Vulnerable_ and _Give Of Yourself_. It bet Winn thought he was _sooo_ clever; like Lena would be desperate to prove herself to him, alone with him in their hotel room. It bet he thought he was The Man.

Lena was on her last nerve with it. Winn would never do such a thing. And besides, Winn thought he was The Man, he'd earned it. He'd been more of a man in the past half-hour than anyone she'd met in the past three years.

"Forty floors, you'd think they'd have an express elevator," he said, as he watched the floor numbers slowly roll upwards.

"There's no rush," she said, as she examined him: his face, and that surprisingly chiseled jawline; his thick, ruffly hair, that she could already imagine nestled between her fingers; his buttoned silk jacket, and how the light bounced off of it, forming slender shadows under his shoulders and at the breast pocket.

Yes. Here was a bright, kind, _brilliant_ young man. The only part of him that was really a boy, was the part he'd left behind at the theatre.

 _You're really thinking about this?_ the Luthor within snarked.

She was. The martini headache was fading, and she was eager for a distraction from the maelstrom and void of emotions that had taken her over since the movie. She wanted to reach out and grab hold of something that would anchor her in the dark.

And right now, she could think of no sturdier anchor than Winslow Schott.

 _Fine_ , the Luthor within told her, _But we do it MY way_.

As the elevator doors opened out into the lounge of the penthouse suite, Lena grabbed her shoes out of Winn's hands, then took bold strides out of the elevator; hitting the lights and throwing the shoes down in a corner like she had lived there for years. The Luthor within had a plan, and it gave Lena an energy boost.

It didn't have to be a big deal. They were two people, attractive people, coming together for one night. And after all, this was supposed to be his birthday. This would be a gift he was never going to forget.

She stopped, half-feigning being blinded by the overhead lights, shading herself. "No, too bright. Can you fix this?"

Winn, barely out of the elevator, said, "Sure," and studied the light switches; first flicking on the mood lighting, and then flicking the overhead lights off. "That better?" he asked, earnestly.

"Better," she replied, with a half-smile; adding _Eager To Please_ to the mental list of the qualities that made him perfect for this particular task. She fell into the corner of the couch, seemingly exhausted; but took great care to spread herself out, putting as much of herself and her blood-red gown in view as she could.

"Could you get me a-" she began, before she noticed he wasn't there anymore; but he appeared behind the couch, coming around with a bottle of still water and a glass. "Thanks," she said, as he sat the glass on the coffee table, cracked the seal on the bottle, and poured.

 _VERY Eager To Please_ , apparently. Even better.

He would never tell anyone about this, she was sure; not if she asked him not to. He would think it dishonourable.

If she wanted, it could just be their naughty little secret.

If she wanted.

He handed her the glass, and took up a space on the couch next to her as she drank; again, a precisely comfortable distance away. He'd abandoned his suit jacket somewhere, revealing the matching blue waistcoat underneath over a black shirt; a shirt, Lena could tell, he'd either also made himself, or tailored to fit.

She watched the unfaded black cotton bunch and strain around the muscles in his arms as he screwed the bottle-cap back on; and as she did, she filled in the rest of his physique in her mind. It was the body of a dancer. Not a professional dancer - nothing that muscular - but the wiry build of a man who just happened to dance; like the older boys in tank tops she and her friends used to linger over as they got out of Mrs. Wheaton's ballroom class.

An involuntary smile stretched across her lips, as she pasted the image of Winn over her adolescent memory. The washboard stomach didn't quite suit him though. A belly, perhaps. Not a _gut_ , no, not at all; just a soft, cute little belly. She adjusted the mental image, and found she wasn't the least disappointed in what her mind's eye saw.

"Thank you for doing this," she said, making doe-eyes at him.

 _Make him feel like a hero_ , the Luthor within told her. _Make him feel like he deserves a reward_.

"It was what you needed. And that's what I do," Winn replied. His smile, that she might once have considered shy, radiated confidence - false, perhaps, but confidence nonetheless - and the Luthor within adjusted its plans.

 _Let him know that you need him. But tread softly. Don't spook him. He'll likely refuse you at first. He's being a gentleman_.

"You should let me make it up to you," she said, meeting his smile with her own.

He shook his head. "No, that's not-"

"-how that works? Well, it is how _I_ work. I kind of-" she paused, for dramatic effect, "-need to. Come on. You've earned it. You can have anything you want."

"You've... done more than enough for me already," he said, holding up his arms in protest.

"Well," she said, shifting over on the couch to be sat right next to him, "There must be _something_ I can do for you." Her hip pressed gently into his, and as it did, he closed up; his hands pressed firmly against his knees, clearly afraid of crossing bondaries he now considered uncertain.

_Just one more little push._

"Something that just... _popped_ into your mind?" she said, smacking the emphasised word with her lips as she reached across him to the hand farthest from her, laying her own hand upon it. His head turned slightly toward her, but he avoided her eyes.

"Something you've told yourself you don't deserve?" she continued, taking deep, heaving breaths to draw attention to the dècolletage she'd caught him glance at earlier; and was rewarded as his eyes fell upon it and drank deeply, before they flickered up to meet her own. His lips quivered, false confidence from mere moments before now vanished, and she delighted in it.

She raised her free hand to his cheek, caressing it. She leaned forward, her eyes locked to his, and added a final, whispered iteration of "Something...", dropping her gaze to his lips before closing her eyes; and as her hands kept fixed him in place, she leaned in to kiss him.


	5. Chapter 5

The first Lena noticed something was wrong, was when she felt something against her cheek.

It was Winn's hand.

Somehow, like lightning, Winn had snaked his arm, the arm she wasn't holding on his knee, out from where it was and brought it up to her cheek, all in the time her eyes were closed, and without her noticing; and now it was holding her mouth a comfortable distance from his, the whole time resting his forehead against her own.

His eyes were closed. He looked... forlorn.

"We can't do this," he said, gently pushing himself away from her.

"Why not?" she asked, eyebrow raised, both of curiosity and the Luthor within's scorn. She brought her hand down from his face to grip his forearm, which tensed pleasingly against her fingers; "Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it."

"No. I have," he said, avoiding her gaze, admitting his guilt. He took a deep breath, then raised his kind, soulful eyes to meet hers; attempting a smile as he nervously confessed, "I can't say I haven't been crushing on you a little the whole of this past month, because I have. I'm not proud of it; but in my defence, you're incredibly crush-worthy."

Lena became acutely aware that he still had his hand to her face, and had begun, absently, to caress her cheek with his thumb. It was the gentlest thing she'd ever felt in her life, and yet somehow felt so powerful it could stop a train in its tracks. Even as the Luthor within mocked him for the pitiful adolescence of a grown man having a 'crush'; Lena's mind filled with Winn's hands - those delicate, nimble, _precise_ hands - and the myriad ways she could have him put them to good use.

Sitll holding her gaze, Winn lowered his hand from her cheek; and she silently whimpered at the release.

"But you're not ready for me," he said, gently - but firmly - taking her hand from his knee, and placing it back down on her own.

Lena was taken aback, but the Luthor within rallied. "Really?" it cursed, "You seem very sure of yourself. Think you're going to ruin me for other men, do you?"

The Luthor within enjoyed watching his embarrassment at the overt suggestion; an embarrassment Lena found herself sharing.

"No, nothing like... that," he replied, quietly.

"Then what? What am I not ready for?" the Luthor within allowed itself a smirk for trapping Winn within his own logic, "Is it because of the martini? I've only had one drink, Winn. You're not taking advantage of me; I know my own mind."

"It's not that either."

"Then enlighten me."

He took another deep breath to steel himself.

"You... are not ready-," Winn told her, with absolute certainty, "-For how hard I'm going to fall in love with you."

The smirk froze on her face, then slowly melted away.

"You're not. And that's... fine," he said, revealing an obvious lie, "I can deal. It's just a crush. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop being your friend. I have some experience in this area."

Lena examined his face. He didn't _seem_ angry. More than anything else, he seemed _tired_ ; the kind of exhaustion that seeps into in your bones, and lives there forever. The kind she felt every time she heard the name Luthor in a certain tone.

"I can just tell myself it never would have worked out between us anyway, or something. That would be... fine."

It wouldn't have been fine; but Lena could tell that the rest of it was true.

"But I can't do it if you kiss me," he told her, his brown eyes filled with nothing but honesty, "If you kiss me now, I'm done for."

"I don't..." Lena said, but the words wouldn't come. The Luthor within was there, still; but had nothing to contribute. Every snide remark or calculation it made seemed wrong. Lena was on her own.

"Do you not want..." she attempted, almost using the first-person pronoun before switching to "...this?"

"Oh, I do. Very much," he said, trying to reassure her, "I would like nothing more than for the two of us to go into that room over there, and..."

He trailed off with a sigh. "It would be wonderful," he said, with a wistful smile. "For me, at least," he added quietly, "Maybe just 'satisfactory' for you."

It sounded like it should have been a joke. But he wasn't laughing, and neither was she.

"But then what? I don't think you could explain this if you tried, and I wouldn't make you. I mean, it's not like anyone needs to know about this, right? It can just be... our little secret."

He wasn't angry. He wasn't spiteful. His voice wasn't twisted with sarcasm in an attempt to throw her unspoken words back at her.

No, his voice was flat and resigned. It was an acknowledgement, a simple statement of the truth of what she'd been planning, and nothing more. But the clarity with which he understood it felt like an icicle down her back.

"And I get it. I really do. So, we'd have our little moment, and we'd enjoy the afterglow for a minute, and then we'd go our separate ways. And then, tomorrow, we'd look each other in the eye over breakfast and you'd make up some story about how you weren't feeling well, and, yeah, _maybe_ there'll be a few suspicions but there's no way those'd last, because _there's no way_ , right? And then, that would be the end of it."

Lena wanted to deny each word that came out of his mouth. She wanted to tell him that she would never do that to him. That she would never play with his feelings like that.

But she couldn't. This was exactly what she had been planning. And the simple act of getting caught out made the Luthor within want to _scream_.

"Or maybe it wouldn't?"

"What?" she asked, reflexively. Where was he going with this?

"Maybe that's not where it ends. Maybe a week, a month from now, something happens, and you call me. Maybe you're upset. Or lonely. Or bored. You call me, and I come over, and we talk and have drinks and then one thing leads to another and it happens again. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna get a better offer between now and then."

His voice had taken on a fearful quality; half quiet terror, half anxious laughter. Like he had just begun recounting a personal trauma, one that shook him to his very core.

"And maybe it doesn't end there! Maybe it keeps happening. Maybe it becomes just a thing that we do. A thing we don't tell anyone about, because that would mean defining it, and why would we want to ruin it with stupid feelings? But it'd come out eventually, because of course it would, and then we'd break up, because you're not ready to be this vulnerable."

He stopped for a moment, considered a thought.

"'Cause there's wall of ice around your heart, you know? You built it for a reason. And you think it'll weaken you if you let it melt.

"So, we end up going our separate ways."

Lena could see his eyes were wet with tears, and red from fighting them. It was a losing battle, too. Lena was scared, but not for herself. It felt like something was breaking inside of him.

And going by his thousand-yard stare, it wasn't done yet.

"But maybe we don't! Maybe we don't break up. Maybe we work something out and we'll be an _actual_ couple. Can you imagine?" he asked, with a soulless laugh.

"You'll work out how you're going to fit into my life, and how I'm going to fit into yours; and you'll work late on date night anyway, 'cause I need to understand you're your own person, and you're not gonna change for a man and _especially_ not a man like me.

"You'll get embarrassed when I come with you to big events, because I don't belong among those people and I never will, and you'll feel self-conscious when we go hang out at Al's Bar because you won't feel like you belong there either.

"But somehow we'll make it work, because you'll care, you really will - you won't say anything, because that's a thing you have difficulty with, and why does it have to be a big deal anyway? But you'll really like me, just a whole bunch.

"Until one day. There'll be a massive crisis. Or I'll get hurt real bad. Or maybe I'll even get killed. And that's when it'll hit you. That's when you'll finally realise you love me, _really_ love me, with all of your heart, and that you always did.

"And now, you'll never get the chance to tell me."

Lena watched him cradle his head upon his clasped hands, as though in prayer; his breathing slow and controlled; and, finally, she saw those tears he'd been trying to hold back flow down his cheeks; all the while trying to ignore her own.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound his quiet sobs; his deliberate heavy breathing causing them to slow, and then stop.

"I'm sorry," he said, lifting his head, wiping his eyes with his fingers, "You didn't deserve that."

Lena tried to speak, but no words would come out.

_For God's sake, SAY SOMETHING_ , the Luthor within screeched.

"I don't even know what that was," Lena said, as Winn got to his feet, "Do you think... is that what you believe would have happened between us?"

He came back with a small pack of Kleenex he's gotten from his inside pocket, and wiped his eyes.

"No," he said, "But I will if you kiss me. If you kiss me, I'm gonna fall in love with you, and then I'd believe in all of it, and more. I would believe in you so hard that nothing else would matter.

"It wouldn't matter if you stopped being nice to me. It wouldn't even matter if you stopped being _kind_ to me. You could be so, _so_ horrible to me if you wanted, and I would let you. I would be _understanding_. I would be _forgiving_. You could use me and ignore me and hurt me as much as you needed to; and I would love you so much, I would get right back onto humiliating myself, over and over again, fulfilling your every need in the hope of reaching that one day - one glorious, shining day - when you would look me in the eye, and tell me that you loved me too.

"Imaginary me doesn't sound like a very nice person," she said, not knowing if it was herself, or the Luthor within.

"Imaginary You is the _best_ person," he said, with a weak laugh. "You have _so much_ love in your heart, Lena. You do. If you didn't, you never would have done-" he gestured to the hotel room "- _this_ for me.

"You have so much love in your heart, but you don't trust it. There's nothing wrong with that, and it isn't hard to understand why you don't.

"But you'll get there, I know you will. And when you do, it's gonna make you happier than you ever thought possible. It'll take a lot of work, but you'll get there. And I want to help you with that.

"But I can't help you if you kiss me. Right now, whatever I feel for you... it's just a crush. But if you kiss me, if we go in that room, if you let me believe that _maybe_ all that love in your heart might be for me - I _will_ fall in love with you, and I will destroy myself waiting for it in return. I know I will. I've lived through this story, more than once; and every time it got worse, and worse, and I _cannot_ do it again. But if you kiss me right now, I will. I'll do all of it.

"Which is why I can't do any of it."

Lena's heart felt like a lead weight inside her chest. Ten minutes ago, this was a frivolous indulgence. She could have done anything besides what she did. They could have gotten hammered off the minibar, and talked, and laughed, and maybe she would have felt a little better.

But now everything was wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to feel like... _this_. Even if she _could_ have taken it back... she wasn't sure if she even wanted to. And on top of all this, there was the Luthor within, at the back of her mind, _laughing_ at her.

For believing his little speech about the love in her heart. For believing _in_ him, and his potential for giving her comfort in the dark. For wanting him in the first place.

For wanting the kind lie, and not getting it.

"So," Lena began, not really knowing what she wanted his answer to be, "What is it that you _do_ want? What does that look like? Do you want your eyes to meet across a crowded room and... 'kapow'? You're in love?"

Playing the words back in her head, it had felt like the Luthor within had said them, but no. It was all her.

"No, I don't believe in that anymore," Winn said, and it felt like the knife twisted as he did, "I just want...”

He took a moment, solidifying his ideal romance in his head.

"...someone who's _excited_ about me. About the idea of me. That can't _wait_ to tell her friends about me."

He thought for another moment. "Failing that; someone who just... likes me, and thinks I'm cute."

"It sounds like you're really reaching for the stars there," she said, not knowing if it came from her or the Luthor within.

"Maybe it's a lot to ask, but I dunno. I've done some cool stuff," he said, not registering the sarcasm at all, "Have you ever held a Van Gogh?"

"Yes."

The immediacy of her answer must have derailed his train of thought.

"Oh," he said, deflating, "I was sure that would have been a less common experience."

He blurted out an anxious laugh, finally breaking the tensions between them; and, in kind, she exhaled in amusement.

"We had one at the house. An early piece, nothing special. We could never find a good place to put it, so we moved it around a lot," she explained, "When did you get to hold a Van Gogh?"

"When Starry Night was stolen. _The_ Starry Night," he said, as though Lena needed reminding what it was, not noticing that her eyes had nearly jumped out of their sockets when he said it.

"This... priceless, _irreplacable_ object... and I held it in my hands, rolled up, like it was just a completely normal thing."

He looked down at his open palms for a moment. "Not everyone gets to do something like that."

"You helped recover it?" she asked, with a little pride.

"My girlfriend stole it," he said. For a moment, that was all he said, but he chose to elaborate: "Her brother had been kidnapped by this gang, the gang wanted her to steal some things to get him back, and she was getting away with it by setting up guys she was dating to take the fall."

He paused, and then, in a voice that suggested he'd only just had the thought, "She didn't like me very much."

"So what happened?" Lena asked.

"I took care of it - arrested the gang, got her brother back - and then... I forgave her. We stayed together for another couple of months," he said, like this was a completely normal thing.

"So, why did you break up?" she asked.

"Turned out her brother wasn't her brother. You know, either that, or they had a weird Lannister thing going on-"

"I see," Lena interrupted. She hadn't watched the show, but she'd heard stories.

"Caught them together on my couch. Didn't even ask her for the eight hundred dollars I loaned her," he said, thinking over the last days his previous relationship. Then, suddenly, he brightened up; and Lena was reminded of the façade she'd put on earlier.

"So, yeah; I'm not sure if I'm a club you really want to be a member of," he said, with a laugh. Looking over at her with the kindest eyes, he continued, "I like you, Lena. This trip is the most incredible thing anyone's ever done for me, and I'm never going to stop being grateful to you for that. And I'm flattered you would ever think of me as someone you might want to... kiss. I really am. You ever need anything from me, you only ever have to ask."

He looked back down at his feet again, embarrassed, "All anyone has to do is ask."

Rallying, he carried on, "But I can't do _this_. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. You are my family, and I love you, and there’s nothing you could do to stop that from being the case; but if you are going to offer me your body, I need you to put your mind and your soul on the table as well. I can't accept anything less."

The Luthor within, as confused by Winn's performance as it was, had nonetheless come to the confusion he was bluffing, that he could still be persuaded.

He would cave. Everyone always caved. Everyone gave up their principles eventually. Everyone had a price, and the Luthors could always afford to pay it. Why would Winn be any different?

And, even after all this, even after he'd poured his heart out to her; Lena was tempted to try, just to see what would happen, just to see if he'd break.

Just to see if he'd refuse her again.

And it would be so easy to find out...

"So, this is the deal. We can do whatever you want. We can order room service, or we can raid the mini-bar; you can tell me absolutely everything that's on your mind, or you don't have to say anything at all. We can sit here, on this couch, in silence, just going over our own thoughts, if that's what you want. But, I promise, whatever you decide, whatever else happens... we will not share a bed tonight."

Suddenly, the elevator doors made a clunk, and light poured in to the room. Lena turned, aware that they weren't alone anymore. Her first thought was about what excuse they would tell the newcomers about what they'd been doing. But her second thoughts told her that they weren't really interested.

Less than five seconds after the elevator doors opened, Mon-El's tie and jacket were off, and thrown onto the floor; as Kara backed him into the room, frantically but carefully unbuttoning on his dress shirt, her elbows splayed wide to negotiate the limited space between them that would still let the two of them kiss each other, a task both of them were keenly focused on.

So, those two had made up, then. Given how weird they'd been all day, Lena should have been less surprised.

She and Winn followed their progress from the vantage point of the couch, as Mon-El impatiently ripped open the last few buttons on his shirt, and pulled Kara in to himself as closely as he could. As the elevator doors closed, the low lighting of the room masked them in shadow - Lena could have sworn for a moment she saw Kara carrying _him_ \- but that thought was brushed aside as the couple made their way to the room Winn and Mon-El were sharing, and closed the door behind them.

Lena already knew that Winn had noticed as well, but she didn't know what else to say.

"They went in your room," she said.

"Yeah," he replied, after a long pause, still looking over at the door. There were three bedroom, two kings and an emperor. Alex and Maggie got the emperor, as they were the only couple. Lena and Kara had one of the kings, Winn and Mon-El had the other.

Until about ten seconds ago.

"I guess there's only one bed, then," Lena said awkwardly, as Kara's happy laughter wafted its way over from the other bedroom. Under the circumstances, Lena couldn't fault Winn's heavy, sighed reply.

"Huh."


	6. Chapter 6

They did not share the bed. 

Winn, much to Lena's frustration, had kept his promise. She had argued the point with him - explained how big these beds were, how they would each have separate covers, he wouldn't even notice they were in the same bed - but he insisted, very politely, and opted for the couch instead. She had even argued that _she_ should take the couch - this was still supposed to be his birthday, after all - and again, very politely, _too_ politely, he insisted. 

Now he was outside, in the lounge area, asleep on the couch in the Presidential suite of the Metropolis Hyatt; and Lena swam about in her king-size bed, alone.

It was the politeness that she'd hated. It was good-natured, kind, _incredibly_ respectful; but at the same time, totally impersonal, and utterly implacable. It was as though what they'd shared the previous hour hadn't even happened, like they were meeting for the first time.

It wasn't until she'd gotten into bed that she figured out what was wrong.

He'd been competely humiliated. 

Winn had taken a single step towards something that even vaguely resembled what he really wanted from his life, and events had conspired against him. The politeness was Winn's equivalent of what Lena had spent her teens doing: putting on a brave face, and hoping no-one would notice.

She wished she hadn't noticed.

Lena racked her brain for ways to make it right, but the Luthor within had other ideas, and she couldn't fault it for its logic. 

In her heart, she didn't want to fix this.

She wanted him to _give in_.

For Winn to be there with when she woke up, having silently crawled into bed beside her in the night, so she might soothe his broken heart with hers. For him to wake her in the night, seeking comfort in her arms as she'd sought it in his, comfort she was more than willing to provide. She even considered going out there and pulling him back to her room; and or squeezing herself onto the couch next to him and holding him until their closeness overwhelmed him, and he succumbed to the basest of his own needs.

So many choices, and all of them would be wrong. Every idea she had, every feverish fantasy, they all ended the same way. And that was the one thing he'd asked her not to do.

So she lay there, hands balled into fists at her side, the Luthor within refusing to let her accept any release other than the one she'd set her heart on, waiting for Winn to finish their story for her.

But he never did.

She was still awake when there was a light crash outside, someone stumbling into a table. Alex and Maggie coming back. Lena heard a hushed exchange. He was definitely awake now. 

She could go to him. She wouldn't even be waking him.

But she never did. Instead, she lay there, listening; until there were no more voices from the lounge, and the door of the main bedroom had closed, indicating Alex and Maggie had gone to bed. And then she lay there longer, until she was sure Winn was asleep once more.

And then, finally, she let herself drift away.

 

Lena woke suddenly, startled, dusted in sweat. Good dream? Bad dream? She didn't remember, she never did; at least, not in any detail. She was fairly sure that Winn had been there, though, given how surprised she was when she looked over to his side of the bed, and saw that he wasn't there. 

That he had _never_ been there. That it wasn't even his side of the bed.

_You couldn't even seduce a desperate little dweeb_ , the Luthor within told her, with its usual disdain. That was its way. That had _always_ been its way. The Luthor within hated everyone; but it hated Lena most of all.

Trying to ignore it and failing, Lena got up, pulled on some pyjama pants - the oversized t-shirt she had slept in not being nearly oversized enough to wear in public - splashed some water in her face; and then, creeped out of her room, into the lounge.

Dawn hadn't exactly broken, but it was certainly showing signs of stress; and what little light there was peeked its way around the curtains, just enough to for Lena to see. No-one else was up yet.

She tip-toed across the room, and peered over the back of the couch, upon which Winn was lying face down, still in his dress shirt and pants, but without his shoes; with his duvet, borrowed from her bed, clutched against his face like a security blanket.

He was sucking his thumb.

She made her way around the couch to see if she was imagining it; but no, Winn definitely had his thumb in his mouth. The insightful, forthright man from last night had somehow turned back into a thirty-year-old little boy.

_Really? THIS was the object of your desires? This is what kept you awake for God knows how long?_ The Luthor within taunted her, _This mama's boy who never grew up?_

Lena's stomach tightened at the mention of Winn's mother, and the memory of what he'd said about her, and at everything else they'd shared last night. 

And then, something strange happened. 

Her mind made itself a strong foothold upon the memories, took a deep breath, and threw back just one word:

**YES.**

Yes. Lena respected Winn. She admired him. And yes, since it came up, she even _desired_ him. He wasn't a mama's boy, and hadn't been for a long time. In some ways, he was more of a grown up than she was.

She was his family-

THEY WERE FAMILY.

She hadn't noticed him say it the night before, but he had.

They were family. And he loved her. And that was never going to change. And the only thing he'd asked of her return was that she cared about him enough to respect his feelings. 

How could someone possibly deny him that?

She looked down at him in his childish tableau. Was he having a nice dream? Was he dreaming about her? Would he wake to surprise when he found himself alone, as she had?

He looked peaceful. After everything that had happened, he had somehow managed to find some peace. 

Lena envied him. She wanted that peace for herself. And he would help her with that, she knew, if she asked. All she would have to do is ask. 

All anyone ever had to do was ask.

**SO YES. NOW SHUT UP.**

Her eyes wandered down the rest of his body, and her face pulled itself into a satisfied grin. Those pants were incredibly well tailored at the back. They were _snug_. That kind of attention to detail was... appealing, in more ways than one.

She took a step back as Winn stirred a little, murmuring. He shifted in place, turning his body; and Lena held her eyes on him _just long enough_ to see that he was, in fact, having a very nice dream indeed. 

Perhaps he could afford to let the pants out a little at the front. Just a little. To give himself... more room. In a manner of speaking.

Her cheeks warm from embarrassment, Lena stepped away from the couch, to head back to her room. Okay, so, not a little boy. Definitely not. She might not, perhaps, go so far as to call him a BIG boy, but-

She needed to stop thinking about this.

"Hey?" 

Behind her, Lena heard Winn's quiet voice, and she strained her neck to face him. He was already trying to sit up, his hair mis-shapen from leaning against the couch arms.

She turned the rest of her to face him, trying to think of a suitable greeting; but all her mind could come up with was: "Hey."

As he became more upright, the rest of her brain caught up with her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said, just above a whisper, "Don't get up on my account."

But Winn was already up. "It's fine," he said, bleary-eyed; bringing what little focus he had upon her chest. His brow furrowed, and he grinned a little. 

"Nice shirt."

She looked down at the purple shirt, with its slogan 'Never Trust An Atom; They Make Up Everything'. Feeling like it needed an explanation, she simply said, "I thought it was funny."

He laughed, or at least exhaled while grinning, and patted the seat next to him. Lena rounded the couch once more, and was more than a little grateful to find Winn had bunched up the duvet over his lap.

"You sleep well?" he asked her.

"Fine, I guess," she said as she sat, "How about you? Was the couch okay?"

"It was... a couch," he said, twisting his neck around with several audible pops.

Lena felt her mouth form into a smirk. "Wishing you hadn't turned down my offer?"

"In the interests of full disclosure," Winn replied, wearily, "I was wishing that that the whole time I was turning it down. Does having self-respect always suck this much?"

"Unfortunately, the benefits are mostly long-term," she said, her smirk evolving into an outright smile.

"That makes sense," he said, in good-humour, "Well, at least you dodged a bullet."

"How so?"

"You didn't have to... you know."

Lena considered his statement. He was trying to pin the blame on himself. She couldn't allow that.

"I don't regret anything I wanted last night, Winn," she said, in absolute honesty, "You would have been incredible."

"Well, that's... very kind of you to say," he said, quietly, his face turning red.

"That's not a kind lie, Winn. You would have. You're very..." she searched around in her head for the right thing to say, but all the words she came up with were very... corporate.

"...Task-oriented. Thorough," she said, and from the look on his face, these weren't the right words at all. She tried again. "You're very good at in-the-moment problem solving, and make necessary adjustments based on real-time feedback."

He took in her assessment of him, trying not to laugh. "I _do_ adapt my methods as required in order to maximise process output," he said, slowly, a mocking grin threatening to break out on his face.

"Exactly!" she said. If she was screwing this up, it was obviously in an endearing manner. "And I think, on some level, you already knew that; because if these women from your past didn't like who you are as a person... why would they have stayed with you if you weren't doing what they needed doing?"

She was surprised as the words came out of her mouth. The Luthor within would never have let her say... that.

She waved the words away before Winn's stunned expression could form a verbal reply. "But... you were right. About me. And what I was thinking. I was..." she said, trying to phrase it delicately, "...not acting in good faith when I tried to kiss you. I didn't even consider that maybe you weren't a one-night-stand kind of guy. I'm sorry I put you in that position, and I'm grateful that you didn't take me up on it. It may not have been what I wanted, but it was what I needed. You're a good friend, and a good man-"

"-And one day, I'm gonna make a girl very happy," he interrupted, not depressed by the statement, but not taking solace from it either.

Lena agreed with the statement; but the Luthor within, pride wounded, nevertheless managed to stop her saying so, reducing her expression to a nod. 

_You know what you have to do_ , it told her.

"You should let me make it up to you," she said, ignoring it, adding, "For real this time," when she realised that this was the same phrase she had used last night. "Let me take you out to dinner. My treat. Just the two of us."

"You don't have to do that," he reminded her.

"I know. But I want to. Anywhere you want."

Winn thought about it for a second, then shook his head.

"I dunno. I don't know any places in Metropolis at all-"

"Doesn't have to be in Metropolis," she said, softly, "Doesn't even have to be in National City. Come on. Isn't there anywhere you'd like to go?"

_You know what you want. You know what you have to do to get it. And I can't do it for you. Why are you avoiding it?_

Winn looked at her with an expression of confused awe.

"You know, _The Shard_ has these elevators that go up thirty floors in fifteen seconds..."

Lena sucked at her bottom lip as she took on the implications of his statement.

"Thirty-two floors, actually," she said. "What's this thing you have about express elevators?"

"I'm an engineer, alright; I just think they're neat," he said, cheerfully.

"So," she said, matching his mood, "London it is, then."

_That wasn't it._

"Any preference for the restaurant? Oblix has better food, but Aqua has better views." As she asked, Winn's mouth curled up into a huge smile.

"It's _so_ cool that you know that," he told her, and she allowed herself to take the compliment.

_That's not it either._

"I think I'm gonna leave that detail in your capable hands," he said, "Hey, do you know if Matilda is still running?"

"Matilda?" she asked, confused.

"The musical," he attempted to clarify, to no avail; "We're gonna fly all the way to London, we may as well make the most of it. Maybe catch the matinee?"

"Sure, if that's something you want to see. Why Matilda?"

"Doens't have to be Matilda, just feels more West End than Broadway," he replied, "Or, you know, Natural History Museum? I read they just put up a new whale skeleton in the Great Hall."

Lena made an attempt at putting together the pieces.

_Just tell him._

"Winn," Lena began, refusing to let the Luthor within have its way, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

_Why are you doing this? Just TELL him._

"Uh... no," Winn replied in explanation, "That was not my intention at all."

_This is the easiest thing. Tell him._

"Could you?"

_Almost, but no. Try again._

"Could I what?" he asked.

"Do you think... you could ask me out on a date?" she asked, swallowing her pride, "Do you think you could you ask for me to take you on a romantic weekend, just the two of us?"

Her request was met with silence. "Do you think you would be able to ask me for that?"

**Please?**

Winn closed his eyes, and she could see the exhaustion weigh his body down.

_This is what happens when you don't listen to me. Now, say the damn words before you lose him forever._

Lena froze. She didn't want to lose him forever. 

She didn't want to lose him even a little bit.

"I don't... Did you even _listen_ to a single word I said-" he began, his voice audibly shaken.

_Oh, FOR GOD'S SAKE-_

"I like you, Winn," she said, interrupting him; and it wasn't until he stopped talking that she realised she'd spoken at all.

_FINALLY_ , the Luthor within berated.

He looked over at her, and Lena saw an imperceptable change in him; like he'd become more solid before her very eyes. There had been a strength to him last night, but it was forced; kept up by sheer force of will. Right now, it felt like even Kryptonite couldn't break him.

Somehow, now the words were out in the world, Winslow Schott was more alive than she'd ever seen him before.

The Luthors had always had power. But this was a power Lena didn't even know she had; and it terrified her to wield it. Nonetheless, she willed herself on.

"I think I really like you. I think I liked you before we even came here." 

She reached out to spread her fingers through his unkempt hair, and a big smile pulled itself across her face as she realised the obvious stupidity of what she was going to say next.

"I like you, and I think you're really cute," she said, with a tear in her eye, and a laugh in her voice. "You're a lot more crushworthy than either of us gave you credit for, and I didn't know how far along I was until... I'd made a mess of things."

His breathing was deep, but slow. Like the world would shatter if he blew on it too hard.

She edged closer to him, eagerly, frentically, until their hands were touching. "Yes, I was scared. I still am. But so are you. You're just... a lot better at hiding it than I am.

"So let's be scared together. Because you're right. You _are_ going to make someone very happy one day, happier than they ever thought was possible..."

She raised her hand to his cheek, ran her thumb across it, trying so hard to recreate his gentleness from the previous night.

"...And if it's going to be anyone, I'd like for it to be me," she said, softly; adding, with a sardonic twist, "I'm selfish that way."

His eyes - those warm, chocolate-brown eyes, glazed over with tears - darted around, searching her face for any sign that she didn't really mean it.

"I'm... sure I can forgive you," he said, almost stammering.

"So, I think I should just ask you now... Winslow Schott? Will you go out on a date with me?"

She watched his lips, as he gave the slightest of nods, and said, "I think I'd like that."

He was just inches away now. She hadn't seen him lean in. He _hadn't_ leaned in. She had unconsciously brought her body so close to his that they were nearly touching already, without even realising.

She flicked her eyes up to his, only to see them focused down on her mouth; and, inching ever closer, she whispered, with a delicate smile, "That seems like a good place to start," before closing her eyes, leaning into kiss him...

...and this time, he let her.

She hadn't intended to kiss him very deeply - taking his lower lip between her own and squeezing, ever so slightly, until it rolled out of her mouth once more - just a soft, gentle kiss to savour, before they decided how to move forward.

But she couldn't help herself.

She moved in to kiss him again, deeper this time, and as she did, his hand moved up, his knuckles gliding across her cheek; before reaching farther, gently gripping the back of her neck, as his fingertips stroked the roots of her hair. Her mouth opened, and she immediately felt his tongue against hers - as light and delicate and nimble as his hands were - before it swiftly retreated back between his lips; and as she deepened the kiss further, as she let the ice around her heart melt, as she solidified the idea in her brain that _this_ was what she wanted - not just now, or for a few weeks, or for a few months, but maybe forever - she began to feel stronger, stronger than she'd ever felt, like-

Like she might never need the Luthor within ever again.

And that feeling warmed her like the Sun.

Emboldened, Lena dropped her hand down from Winn's cheek, onto to his neck, sliding down over his chest, settling on his abdomen; and there she felt a softness that so precisely matched what she'd imagined the night before that it made her giggle, breaking their kiss.

"Hey, don't be laughing at my belly," Winn whispered, genially.

"I'm not," Lena replied, pressing her forehead against his, trying not to grin like a buffoon, "It's perfect."

She would have probably enjoyed the washboard stomach, but she enjoyed being right even more.

She let out another soft laugh, and said, "So, that wasn't so scary, was it?" 

Winn leaned back - just a little, as so not to cause friction - and shook his head.

"Shall we keep going?" she asked, moving in again, as her hand grazed the waistband of his pants...

"AHEM."

Lena moved her hand like lightning as she heard the deliberate throat-clearing from across the room, and both she and Winn turned suddenly to identify the source behind the couch.

The source was Kara: stood there, bolt upright, as she often did when she was flustered; wearing what had been Mon-El's dress shirt from the night before and apparently not much else, given how she skipped over to stand behind the side table with the lamp to protect her modesty. Behind her was Mon-El himself, in shorts and vest, beaming with a complete lack of innocence at what he and Kara had just caught them doing.

"Hi," Kara said, waving awkwardly.

"Good morning," Lena replied, knowing damn well what Kara and Mon-El had gotten up to last night, and refusing to be embarrassed by that knowledge.

"Um... yeah, do you mind if I get some clothes? I'm kinda..." Kara said, furtively avoiding drawing attention to her complete lack of pants.

"Of course, go right ahead," Lena answered; and Kara swiftly gestured to Mon-El, who darted forward, his eyebrows raising in jest as he caught Lena's gaze as he went past.

"So..." Kara said, in a too-loud, sing-song voice, "Whatcha guys doin'?"

"Um, we were just-" Lena said, turning back to Winn - who she was pleased to find looking only at her, and not at the delicately-covered blonde across the room - and smiled, "-making out a little."

At that, Winn looked away, trying to conceal that he was grinning with pride, while simultaneously blushing like he was ten years old.

"Aaawwww!" Kara squealed, her state of dress momentarily forgotten. "I didn't know you two were-"

"It's a recent development," Winn interrupted with a grin; speaking to Kara, but with his smiling eyes pointed solely at Lena. The force of his gaze made her giddy and warm, rushing colour into her cheeks. She never expected he could do this to her with a look.

Distracted, there was a moment before Lena remembered where she was and what they were talking about, before she blurted "And you!" at Kara, while gesturing toward the bedroom Mon-El was fetching clothes from.

"Pretty much," Kara replied, nervously.

"Should we-" Mon-El said as he re-appeared, pile of clothing in hand, "-I dunno, all do something together?"

"Yes! A double date!" Kara said; still nervous, but with a lot of enthusiasm.

"Perhaps this is something we should discuss when you're dressed," Lena said, as diplomatically as she could. Kara looked down, suddenly reminded of her underdressed form.

"Absolutely, right-" "Yes, that's-" the two for them replied, nodding.

"Okay," Winn said, yawning, "While you guys are doing that, I think I'm going to go back to bed."

Lena watched him gather his duvet together, and head toward her bedroom, as though it were a transmission from another world; and as she watched, the warmth in her heart faded. She knew he was tired, and the couch hadn't been comfortable, but she was hoping to have a little more alone time with him than that. 

"Oh," she said, trying to hide her disappointment, "Sleep well."

He stopped, confused, turning back to her; and, with no trace of the embarrassment that had affected him just a few moments before, asked "You coming?"

_I HOPE S-_ **YOU BE QUIET.**

Lena, clamping down on the Luthor within, lit up in response to his boldness, and stuttered, "Uh... sure," full of anticipation.

Winn held out his hand, and Lena leapt up to take it in hers. He pulled her in close, and whispered, "You know, we don't have to..."

"I know," she whispered back, even though it was the least of her worries.

As he led the way, the Luthor within just had to have the last word.

_You see? I had your back._

**No, you didn't. You didn't do anything. I don't need you.**

_Maybe not right now. But you will. You're always going to need me. And I'll always be here for you._

_Always._

Deep in her own thoughts, she flinched as they reached the door; as Mon-El bellowed from across the room, in a knowing tone, "You be good to her!"

Without a pause, Winn looked back at him, and then at Lena; and said, with every ounce of sincerity:

"Always."

At that, Winn led her inside. As soon as he thought they were out of sight, he caught her by surprise; looping his arm around her waist while closing the door behind them, pulling her body in close to kiss her; a kiss she accepted and returned with a joyous, sinful greed.

Lena didn't know what was going to happen, and it frightened her. But neither did Winn. His imagined nightmare of their relationship didn't have to be more than that. It was dust, already blown away in the wind. It wasn't like the two of them. Not today.

Today, they felt... solid.

And - for now, at least - the Luthor within stayed silent.


End file.
